


Forgive

by kaze_chan



Series: Second Chances [3]
Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Family, Gen, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, teen Athos
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:34:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28247016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaze_chan/pseuds/kaze_chan
Summary: At 28 years old, Aramis can honestly say he's successfully carved out a normal existence for himself. He has a job he enjoys and brothers who he can rely on. His past is nothing more than a distant memory until a routine call dredges up old wounds, but what's more surprising, is his lack of reaction. As a teen he would have been running in the opposite direction but he barely flinched. That in itself was puzzling. What changed?**Modern AU setting with wide ranging age changes. Porthos 47, Aramis 28, Athos 16... Ninon is in her 80's while D'Artagnan and Constance are in their 70's.Sequel to Family and Fate, although Fate can be read before or after.
Relationships: Family - Relationship
Series: Second Chances [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/448717
Comments: 5
Kudos: 16





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> And they're back. I knew if I waited long enough, inspiration would come along. I feel that this story ties up the last loose end in Aramis' roller-coaster story, and I hope you all feel the same. 
> 
> Thank you for taking the time to read and thanks in advance for any feedback.

“So how did your date go?” 

Aramis didn’t have to look at his friend to see the sly smirk on his face. “It went well.” 

“Come on Aramis, give me something!” Marsac pleaded as he took a left heading towards the richer district of town. “Was she wild?”

“A gentleman would never taint a fair lady’s reputation,” Aramis replied earnestly, giving his friend a small knowing smirk, before returning his gaze out the passenger window, watching rows of well-trimmed lawns and hedges pass by.

Marsac simply chuckled. “All right, Casanova,” he teased taking another left, the ambulance looking out of place in this neighborhood. “Just one of these days you’re going to have to tell me how you manage to get so lucky with the ladies. I mean they practically throw themselves at you.”

Aramis let out a small laugh. “Just my charming personality.”

“Not that bullshit again.” Marsac let out another chuckle, quickly checking the dash GPS for the name of the upcoming street before maneuvering the ambulance around another turn. 

Aramis didn’t bother giving an answer. He’d been working with Marsac for two years, and by now the two had formed a friendly rivalry. Both men were considered good looking, and it was no secret Aramis rarely spent the night alone, or in his own bed.

He’d first met Marsac after he’d graduated from pre-med and was lucky enough to get a shift on paramedic rotation. Marsca was an ex-military field medic, and had a bit of an abrasive personality, but the two seemed to have fell into step easy enough.

They were currently responding to a call for a patient transport, a simple job as far as paramedics go. 

“Will you at least see if she has a friend?” Marsac ducked his head to get a better view of the upcoming street sign before taking a right.

“I thought you could get your own dates?” The comment made the other man laugh, as they both remembered a very drunken argument in a bar a few weeks ago. Aramis glanced at the GPS before looked out at the addresses on the beautifully gilded gates. “Number 1645.”

Marsac slowed the ambulance before turning into the driveway, coming to a stop in front of a tall black gate. “1645,” Marsac confirmed as he leaned out of the drivers’ side window to ring the call button. 

He quickly identified themselves to the man who answered, and the gates swung open with a slight click. 

“Automatic gates,” Marsac whistled as he drove up the long drive. “Fancy.”

The long drive eventually opened up and a large mansion came into view. Marsac whistled as he pulled the ambulance up to a side door, putting the vehicle in park. “Take a look at this place. Ever dreamed of owning a house like this?”

He tapped on the onboard computer to pull up the patient info, before cutting the engine. “96 year old male, history of heart disease and transport to Saint-Paul Memorial Hospital for observation.”

Aramis nodded half listening, and stepped out, taking in the details of the grand house. The house was beautiful, and almost resembled a palace, but it all looked cold and formal. 

“It must take forever to clean.” Aramis shielded his eyes to block out the harsh sun. 

Marsac closed the driver’s side door and moved to the back of the ambulance, opening the two back doors. “No kidding!”

Aramis came around to help his partner pull the stretcher from the ambulance. He pulled the medical bag from its position, slinging it over his shoulder and closed the back doors. 

The servant’s door opened, and a butler came striding out, dressed in a formal suit and tie. He looked over the two men for a second.

“This way.” The butler didn’t wait to see if they were following before turning and disappearing back into the house, clearly, he was used to being obeyed. 

Aramis shared a look with Marsac before the two fell into step behind the butler. The man let them through richly decorated hallways, through a zig-zag of corridors. Their footsteps echoed through the house, and Aramis wondered how many people actually lived here. The décor looked picturesque but there was nothing personal or welcoming.

After maneuvering through a maze of corners and corridors, the butler finally opened a door which led to a grand bedroom. The large room was set up with various medical equipment, all surrounding a hospice bed. Off to the side stood a maid, poised and silent, as if waiting for orders.

“Monsieur, the paramedics have arrived,” the butler announced as he entered the room. 

As he approached, Aramis could see the small frail frame of an elderly man lying in the big bed. Age had not been kind to him, but what stood out the most was the pair of icy blue eyes that met his. There was something familiar about them, but Aramis couldn’t place it.

“Hello Monsieur,” he greeted warmly when the elderly man’s eyes never left his. “How are you doing today?”

“What kind of question is that,” the old man spoke sharply, though his voice was just above a whisper. “Clearly if I was feeling well, you would not be here.”

Aramis quickly recovered his shock, and recomposed himself. “An honest answer, Monsieur. We’ll do our best to keep you comfortable.”

Aramis turned towards Marsac, the two exchanging a quick look before they started undoing the clasps and readying the stretcher.

“He is to be brought to Saint-Paul’s Memorial Hospital,” the butler explained. “Monsieur Richelieu has a private room waiting.”

Aramis’ hands stopped mid motion, and his body turned involuntarily to study the elderly man more closely. The aged face was different but the eyes had not changed. 

It was the same cold stare that Aramis sometimes saw in his nightmares. It was the eyes of the man who’d stolen so much from him when he was only 11.

Doctor Armand Jean Richelieu. 

Aramis felt a chill run down his spin as he stood rooted in place. Images long forgotten surge forwards, along with a vast array of emotions he didn’t think he could name. His heart skipped several beats and he found he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the frail old man lying in the bed. The image he saw before him was the complete opposite of the portrait his mind had painted of the man behind the name.

He was snapped out of his shock by a hand gripping his shoulder, and he whirled around, coming face to face with Marsac. 

“You ok?” 

It took a minute to clear the remnants, and he quickly mustered up a cheerful smile. “Yes, sorry,” he apologized sheepishly. “I kinda got lost in my thoughts.” He turned back towards Monsieur Richelieu, ignoring the piercing gaze. “Are you ready Monsieur?”

The butler and Richelieu eyed him skeptically, but neither said anything. Marsac also sent him sharp glances in between tasks, but Aramis went about his task. 

Together they moved Richelieu to the stretcher, the man’s small frame barely weighing anything, and they were now carefully loading him into the back of the ambulance. Aramis kept up a steady stream of conversation mostly as a distraction, ignoring all the sideways glances his partner kept sending him.

Richelieu had fallen asleep during the drive to the hospital, his weak body tiring easily, which left Aramis alone sitting next to him. Next to the man who had taken advantage of him when he was at his most vulnerable. He carefully studies the man’s wrinkled face and frail frame, noticing how vulnerable the man was.

When they finally arrived at Saint-Paul’s, the staff quickly took over and whiskered Monsieur Richelieu away, leaving Aramis and Marsac standing in the hallway.

“Care to share what that was all about?” Marsac asked, keeping his tone casual once they were back in the ambulance bay.

Aramis didn’t answer. Instead, he busied himself with cleaning their ambulance equipment, his mind finding peace with the familiar motion of routine work. If he was honest with himself, he really didn’t know what to say. It had been years since he had given the man any thought and never had he ever dreamed he would come face to face with him.

“Just someone I thought I knew.”

Marsac could tell there was more to it than that. “Ah-uh. I’m assuming you aren’t gonna elaborate on that.”

The comment was met by silence.

At the end of their shift, Aramis declined Marsac’s repeated invitations to go have their fill at the local bar, something they often did when they didn’t have to work the next day. Instead, he drove around town absentmindedly, finally coming to a stop at a scenic pullout overlooking the bay. He pulled his jacket closer as he stepped out into the cool night air, and let his gaze scan the calm water. There were no vessels disturbing the surface at this late hour, and Aramis took in a deep breath, his thoughts feeling like they were miles away.

He was shocked to find he wasn’t afraid when he turned to face Richelieu. But still surprising was that he’d managed to keep his calm. Years ago, meeting that man would have sent him running in the opposite direction but he barely flinched. That in itself was puzzling. What changed?

He was pulled out of his reflection but his phone buzzing. 

[You’re missing out man!]

The text was accompanied by a picture of Marsac with a group of beautiful girls. Clearly his friend would not be going home alone tonight, but Aramis was much more enjoying the peace and tranquility. Flipping his phone shut, he was surprised by the late hour and decided he should probably turn in for the night, but he wasn’t looking forward to going to his empty apartment and spend the sleepless night alone. 

Instead, he decided he would go to the only place where he’s ever felt safe and loved.

He decided he would go home.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ninon listened closely, her face a mask of professionalism free of judgement. “There’s a difference between forgiveness and letting go. Forgiving someone means you are willing to give the other person a second chance and that you are willing to try mending bridges. But when you let go, you are making the choice of not letting past offences influence your actions as you move forwards.”

“I’m heading out.” Aramis spoke up as he was folding the blankets. The last thing he wanted to do was worry Porthos, and so he kept his tone light.

The house was dark when he’d pulled up at 2:00 am, Porthos and Athos fast asleep in their beds, and so Aramis had let himself in.

Porthos watched him from the kitchen. “Anywhere in particular?” He knew there was something on Aramis’ mind, why else would he have come over in the middle of the night, but he also knew there was no point in pushing the issue. They had spent years building a relationship based on trust and Porthos knew Aramis would come to him when he was ready.

The paramedic was thankful for the other man’s understanding. He checked the time on his phone before heading for the door. “I’ll be back,” he called as he fished his keys out of his coat pocket.

“I’ll come looking if you don’t.” Porthos meant it as a jibe but when his comment made the other man pause, his concern doubled. “’Mis?”

Aramis had his hand on the doorknob. He’d been fortunate to be Porthos’ brother for the past 15 years, and yet he was still surprised by how well they knew each other. Turning back towards the kitchen, he quickly enveloped the bigger man into a tight hug. “I expect nothing else.” 

Porthos wrapped his arms around his little brother. Even though Aramis was 28, Porthos still thought of him as teen. A Kid. He suspected he always wiould no matter how old he got. “Are you ok?”

Aramis pulled back so Porthos could see his face. “Yes.” 

He scrutinized the young man facing him, noticing the charming smile and calm features. He gave him a quick nod and a pat on the shoulder.

“Spaghetti for supper”

“Sounds good,” he called pulling the door open.

Aramis drove into town and headed towards his appartement. After a quick shower and a change of clothes, he was back behind the wheel heading towards the south end of town. 

His thoughts kept wandering back to Richelieu. The image of the frail old man lying in the hospice bed was the complete opposite of the few memories he had of the man while he was at Saint-Mary’s psychiatric hospital. 

It stirred a strange feeling deep inside of him and he wasn’t sure how to name it. His memories of that year spent in the man’s care was a forest of foggy disconnected fragments, glimpses of something that didn’t feel real. 

He knew what had happened to him, and he’d come to terms with it, but a small part of him still hated Richelieu for the role he had played.

But it wasn’t hatred he felt yesterday when he saw Richelieu. It was something else, a different feeling he didn’t really know how to name.

He knew Porthos would always be there to listen, but he knew of only two people who could truly understand. And that’s what had him pulling into the driveway of a nursing home so early in the morning.

“Aramis,” Ninon greeted warmly when she answered the door, “what a pleasant surprise. Please come in.”

Aramis didn’t miss the way Ninon studied him, but he didn’t mind. He respected her and after all that’s why he was here. She made a pot of tea and laid out a tray of biscuits while Aramis took a seat at her small table exchanging pleasantries. She poured the younger man a cup before taking a seat opposite him, the two falling into a comfortable silence, Ninon giving Aramis the space and time he needed. 

“How can you forgive someone,” Aramis eventually asked. He forced his hand to stay at his side even though his fingers itched to trace the faded scar.

Ninon took a sip from her tea before setting the cup down. “I don’t think there’s set of rules to follow when you forgive someone. There are a lot of various factors to take into consideration and it’s a personal decision that only you can make.”

He considered her answer carefully. 

“What if,” Aramis paused searching for the right words, “what if someone wronged you years ago and hurt you, but when you saw them now, you realized you didn’t hate them anymore. Does that mean you forgave them?”

Ninon listened closely, her face a mask of professionalism free of judgement. “There’s a difference between forgiveness and letting go. Forgiving someone means you are willing to give the other person a second chance and that you are willing to try mending bridges. But when you let go, you are making the choice of not letting past offences influence your actions as you move forwards.”

Aramis always assumed the two things were synonymous. “Then you don’t need to forgive someone to be able to move on? Or vice versa?”

“Not necessarily,” Ninon poured herself another cup of tea. “Imagine you forgave the person who wronged you, but they aren’t apologetic and don’t change. In fact, they honestly believed they’ve done nothing wrong. What then? Does you forgiveness mean anything?” She gave Aramis the time to think it over.

“Then how do you know,” Aramis turned his cup in his hands, looking up to meet Ninon’s gaze, “whether you’ve forgiven someone or just let it go?”

Ninon knew Aramis’ past as well as he did, and she could only think of one person who would have him asking these questions. 

“Does it matter?” Her answer caught him by surprise. “Will the answer change the way you see things? The way you feel?” She watched him shift in his seat. He slowly stood and moved to stand by the large window, gazing out silently. Clearly, this was something he hadn’t considered.

“I don’t know.”

“Aramis, have I ever told you about my fiancée?” Ninon set her tea cup down and fiddled with her watch. 

Aramis looked over his shoulder, shaking his head. “No, I don’t think so.” He was ashamed to say he knew very little about her personal life before she stated seeing Athos.

She readjusted the clock’s face, checking the time with the one hanging on the wall before looking up to meet Aramis’ curious gaze. 

“My father’s family had made a large fortune,” she began feeling a little awkward. She’d spent her life listening to other people’s stories, but rarely had she ever shared her own. “As an only child, I inherited all of it. I grew up surrounded by unimaginable wealth and I had everything I could ever dream of. When my parents died, I inherited my family’s fortunes. I was 19 at the time and the boy I was courting suddenly proposed and we became engaged. I was young and impressionable, and it was only a month before the wedding that I learned his true intentions. You see on the day of my wedding, my husband would be legally entitled to all my fortune simply because he’s a man. I asked him about it and he became angry with me, telling me I was being a silly little girl and I did not need to concern myself with such things. Needless to say, I ended our engagement.” 

Aramis listened carefully, knowing that if Ninon was sharing this with him, there was a point.

“Because of that, I was suddenly shunned by high society, including those I thought were my friends. At the time it was unheard of for a young woman to manage so much money and wealth on her own without a man. I was angry at how they treated me, how many people tried to take control of what was rightfully mine, but then I realized it wasn’t entirely their fault. They were victims of society, and so I forgave them, but I never let it go. I dedicated myself to academic studies to learn how to help change the way people treated women, and I used my vast wealth to sponsor young girls who didn’t have the financial means to pay for a proper education themselves. My entire life’s work has been dedicated to bettering society because of what I had lived through.”

“I built a successful practice, and am well respected among my peers, but it wasn’t until I met Athos that I started to see what I had sacrificed along the way.”

And that was the point Ninon was trying to make him understand. Looking around her small apartment, the only pictures were of him, Porthos and Athos. She never married, never had children of her own and now she had no living family member left. Sure, one could argue she saved countless lives through her professional work, he and Athos were just two among the many, but at what price?

If he couldn’t let it go, then it didn’t matter what he did. Forgiving Richelieu wasn’t enough.

But that still didn’t answer his initial question. How could he tell? And then it occurred to him. 

He crossed the room, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Thank you Ninon,” he stood and kissed her on the cheek. “As always, you are a fountain of sage and sound advice.” 

She smiled brightly. “Tell Athos to bring more biscuits when he comes to see me.”

Aramis promised he would, not surprise she had followed his trail of thought so easily.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aramis goes to see the only other person who could possibly understand what he's feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets hope Aramis can finally find what he's looking for and be at peace with himself. Hearing your thoughts is always appreciated.

“I think I’m still a little angry you ducked out this morning,” Athos eyed him from under his bangs, a sly grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “But I suppose that’s your MO.”

Aramis snorted at the implied jab, and wrapped his arm around Athos’ shoulder just as they reached the bottom step. “I was hoping to make it up to you with lunch.”

Athos’ eyebrow raised slightly as turned to face the other man

“Works with ladies,” Aramis offered, “can’t blame me for trying.”

“You’re buying,” Athos drawled after a beat, lightly punching the taller man in the ribs. He wasn’t expecting Aramis to pull him out of school early today, but he would take his brother’s company over his classmates anytime.

Aramis pulled is arm back, a playful smile plastered on his face as he rubbed his side. “Don’t start something you can’t finish, petit frère.”

Athos gave him a sideways glance, his eyes narrowing in an open challenge, as he headed towards Aramis’ car. “I think I’ll be fine.”

Aramis watched Athos throw is backpack into the back seat in a swift, fluid motion before settling into the passenger seat. It’s true Athos was stronger than his small frame would suggest, though he still had some catching up to do height wise. For now, Aramis still had the upper hand but Athos could certainly hold his own.

“Don’t say you weren’t warned.” Aramis could see a sly grin pulling at Athos’ lip as he settled into the driver’s seat. “Anything in mind?”

“Surprise me.”

****

Athos took another sip from his can as he sat on the hood of the car while Aramis casually leaned against the front. The sun was still high in the sky, reflecting beautifully on the ocean waves while merchant boats casually floated across the harbor.

“How long are we going to sit here before you tell me what’s on your mind?”

The question brought a small smile to Aramis’ features as he balanced his own pop can between his fingers. Athos was never one to dance around a topic or sugarcoat his words, but it was one of the many things Aramis loved about his little brother, even though it did get him into trouble at school often enough.

At 16 years old, Athos was not like the other kids his age, but to be fair he’d never been. He had life experience most couldn’t even image, much less relate to. But Aramis could.

He and Athos shared a special understanding born out of experience. The pair had spent many hours sitting at this very spot together through the years trying to make sense of their past.

“How did you forgive your father?”

The question caught Athos a little off guard, but the only outward sign was a slightly raised eyebrow. Of all the topics and discussions they’ve ever had, Gabriel de le Fère was never one of them, at least not directly.

“I didn’t,” Athos answered flatly.

Aramis turned to face his brother. “Wait, isn’t that’s why we had a funeral for him? To forgive and move on?”

Athos took a deep breath, lost in thought as he sat facing the rolling waves far in the distance. “I never forgave him. I thought if I buried him it would all be over.”

Aramis took a second to process this new information. “How do you feel about him now?”

The teen took another sip from his beverage, taking his time before answering. “I hate him.” His eyes took on a darker color as he tipped his chin down, shielding his eyes with his hair. Aramis knew him well enough to wait until he was ready and so he patiently waited in silence.

“Sometimes,” Athos continued, his voice steady, though Aramis could see a few cracks appearing in his usual flawless mask, “it feels like it’s crushing me and I just can’t break free. Like my father’s always lurking in the shadows of my mind, making me doubt myself. I know it stupid but I can’t shake it no matter what I try.” The simple admission felt raw and weighed heavily between them. “And I hate him for that.”

Aramis leaned over to wrap his arm around Athos’ shoulders, pulling him closer. He and Porthos were well aware of Athos’ internal struggle and the self-doubt that sometimes gripped their little brother, but they hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact source. They should have known.

“I saw Dr Richelieu yesterday.” Aramis changed the focus, keeping his gaze on a large barge currently being loaded at the port. “I’d never met him before, he was always just a name, but when I finally recognized him, I was shocked that I didn’t feel anything. I thought I hated him, but all I felt was pity. All I saw was a frail old man who needed my help.”

A warm breeze rustled the few leaves across the lawn, causing a piece of plastic to whirl about in a small whirl wind.

“That’s where you’re different from me Aramis.” Athos’ shoulders slumped as he gazed out into the distance. “You don’t let it weigh you down. You still look at everyone and everything with love and wonder, despite the crap you were dealt. Your heart is full of life and passion.”

Aramis held his brother tighter, hoping to offer him some comfort. “I have you to thank for that. You were the one who showed me what true courage was and inspired me to face my demons. I would not be the man I am today if it weren’t for you, little brother.”

Athos let out a dry chuckle as he pulled back a little. “You mean the man who goes home with a different woman ever night? I don’t think I can take all the credit for that.” The dry humor helped alleviate some of the tension as he gave Aramis a mischievous grin.

“You’re starting to sound like Porthos,” the older man complained, though his tone lacked any bitterness. The two settled into a comfortable silence, letting the faint ocean sounds wash over them.

“You’ve found a kind of peace that I don’t think I ever will,” Athos spoke up after a while, referring to Aramis’ deep religious belief. “That’s what’s saved you.”

The older man swirled what little liquid was left at the bottom of his can. “It’s not too late for you.” He could tell Athos didn’t agree, but he refused to give up on the boy. He would never give up on him. “You should start by forgiving yourself Athos. What happened wasn’t your fault.”

Athos didn’t respond, instead letting the silence fill the void between them. Aramis’ words brought his attention back to the real reason they were sitting at this scenic outcrop overlooking the bay. “I’m not sure you ever forgave Richelieu but I do think you were able to let it go. And if you no longer hate him, then that’s up to you. No one has a right to tell you how you should feel.”

“Now you’re sounding like Ninon.”

“Well, I do spend a lot of time with her.” Athos’ lip curled up in the corner, as he imitated her cultured pronunciation. The two snickered at the younger boy’s near perfect imitation, each clearly picturing Dr de Larocque sitting in her chair, a pad of paper in her hand.

Aramis finished the last of his drink and stood, patting Athos’ shoulder before breaking contact. He took a few steps before launching the can into the trash, the metal never hitting the rim. His heart felt lighter and he could never express in words how grateful he was to have found Athos and Porthos.

“Thank you,” he turned to face the teen. “How did you get to be so wise.”

Athos finished his own drink and expertly tossed the empty can into the same trash bin, grinning widely when he hit his target from a further distance than Aramis. “Well one of us has to be. Come on,” he tapped the hood of the car as he made his way towards the passenger side, “Porthos will start to worry, and we all know how that’s going to end.”


End file.
